


Make Me Drown

by scandalsavage



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Sugar Daddy, BruJay Week Day 3: Sugar Daddy, Car Sex, Kinda, M/M, Riding, Student Jason Todd, clueless Bruce
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 11:48:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22969498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scandalsavage/pseuds/scandalsavage
Summary: "I'm supposed to meet Dick," Bruce says as he follows Jason down the hall from the entry to the kitchen of the tiny flat. "It's his birthday. I'm taking him to dinner."In the kitchen, Jason pauses with his hand on the kettle.Damnit Dick.The older man sighs and drops himself onto one of the rickety chairs around the table, careful not to jostle any of the papers and notebooks and study materials Jason has strewn all over the round surface."He's not here, is he?"
Relationships: Jason Todd/Bruce Wayne, past Jason Todd/Roman Sionis
Comments: 17
Kudos: 365
Collections: BruJay Week 2020





	Make Me Drown

**Author's Note:**

> This is _technically_ a prequel to [Throw Me in the Deep End](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16608653).
> 
> But I wrote it to stand on it's own for anyone not interested in JayTim.

The music almost drowns out the knock on the door. 

By the time it registers that the noise wasn't coming from the speakers, it's nearly a full minute after it happened. Jason rushes to the door of the dingy little apartment just off campus, tripping over the stack of textbooks he's slowly working through, and hauls the door open with a curse on his lips. 

Immediately, he grimaces and tries to back peddle. He figured it was his roommate. Dick is always forgetting his key. 

Expecting a disheveled, likely drunk, twenty-something, and instead coming face to face with a distinguished, well put together, dad type is jarring. 

"Shit, sorry Mr. Wayne," Jason babbles, internally cringing at the fact he just apologized for swearing by swearing again. He kicks Dick's running sneakers farther behind the door so he can pry it open and let Dick's dad into the apartment for which he pays half the rent.

"Please, Jason. I've told you before, I really do prefer Bruce." Wayne shoots him a kind smile as he steps over the threshold, seemingly unconcerned by Dick's mess strewn everywhere. 

Maybe he's used to it.

"It's just weird," Jason mutters, hopefully low enough Wayne doesn't hear.

But the knowing smirk on the older man's lips doesn't inspire much confidence. 

"I'm supposed to meet Dick,"  _ Bruce _ says as he follows Jason down the hall from the entry to the kitchen of the tiny flat. "It's his birthday. I'm taking him to dinner."

In the kitchen, Jason pauses with his hand on the kettle.  _ Damnit Dick. _

"Uh... look Mr. Wayne—I mean... um, Bruce... Dick's, erm—"

The older man sighs and drops himself onto one of the rickety chairs around the table, careful not to jostle any of the papers and notebooks and study materials Jason has strewn all over the round surface. 

"He's not here, is he?"

"No."

"Partying?"

"Probably."

Bruce fixes icy blue-grey eyes on Jason's face. "Did he forget? Or is he punishing me?"

Jason fidgets, shifts his weight from foot to foot and averts his eyes. Dick didn't actually  _ say _ that he was purposefully avoiding his dad, and Jason is pretty sure the older boy really did forget but... a few days ago he did make a comment about how his dad was an "overbearing asshole" and how it would "serve him right" if Dick just started ignoring him.

"It's alright," Bruce assures him before he can say anything. "I wouldn't wish to drag you into the middle of our family squabbles. Dick is your roommate and I'm just his father."

With a small gulp, Jason sets the kettle back down and opens the cabinet to get the bourbon. 

"People with families always take them for granted," he says casually, holding the bottle up questioningly.

Bruce nods but frowns at him.

"I don't mean it in a bad way," Jason rushes to amend as he pours two fingers, neat, a piece. "It's... nice. Having people you're so close to, you know they'll be there even after fights."

Or... he  _ thinks _ it sounds nice anyway.

The last time Jason thought he'd found a family it had... well, it hadn't quite worked out like that.

Bruce hums around his drink as Jason sits back in the chair he'd been glued to all night and tries to reorient himself. He's been at it for hours and he still has so much to do. 

He tries to ignore the weight of Bruce's eyes lingering on him as he shuffles some papers around. The cool, considering gaze only tears away to check a watch that alone could end many of Jason's financial issues. 

"I have a reservation in twenty minutes at  _ l'Affaire _ ," Bruce says after a long minute.

"Swanky," Jason responds, not looking up from where he scrutinizes some annoyingly small margin notes he'd scribbled in a hurry.

After a moment, a big hand settles gently over the paper he's staring at and Jason meets Bruce's intensely focused attention.

"It's for two."

Jason blinks. "Oh... uh—"

"Go change."

God, it sounds like an order. It sinks into Jason's bones and takes more effort than it should to resist obeying immediately. No wonder this guy is so successful. 

"I... I really don't have the time, Mr. Wayne—"

"Bruce."

"Bruce, right. Sorry. I just... I still have a ton of work to do and—"

"Take a break."

"I—"

"Two hours, Jason. Relax for a minute, get a good meal with hopefully equally good company, and come back to it refreshed."

The older man's smile is warm and inviting and so very irresistible. 

But the way his eyes dart down to watch Jason lick his lips has an edge of hunger to it that doesn't have anything to do with dinner. Or... Jason finds himself hoping it doesn't anyway.

Christ, this is such a bad idea. 

* * *

It's the best food Jason has had in years.

The man who took him in when he was young had been wealthy too and fed Jason well. But he kept Jason locked up like a princess in a tower for his own unsavory reasons. And even generally speaking, he was definitely inferior company.

Bruce is perfectly at ease and carries the conversation for the first half while Jason tries to relax. He has to consciously stop himself from thinking about the mounds of studying he has to do, the fact that he's out at a super fancy dinner with his roommate's dad, trying to tell himself that this unexpectedly intense mutual interest can't go any further. 

But once he finally lets himself unwind, that attraction just gets worse. Bruce is easy to talk to. The papers like to try to make him out to be a vapid, trust fund baby, but he's sharp and surprisingly empathetic. A shark with a kind heart.

Bruce subtly nudges Jason into explaining his situation. How he works three jobs. How he's overloaded his classes. How, between work and school, Jason only gets three hours of sleep a night. 

"Is this cutting into your sleeping time?" Bruce asks, looking horrified and guilty.

"No!" Jason assures him. Of course Bruce would think that after everything. "No, this is... this is scheduled dinner, one of my breaks later, and probably cutting half an hour of study time. Which is fine!" he rushes to add when the older man's brows go up. "You're right, sometimes it's good to get some fresh air. I can survive the hit, promise."

It's unfair how handsome Bruce is when he's frowning at Jason like he's being a surly child. 

"You're too young for all that. You need time to recuperate and rest or you're going to burn out before you even graduate."

Jason snorts. "I'm just doing what I have to do."

Bruce hums at that, looking lost in thought as he has the waiter bring another bottle of whatever rich, red wine they're drinking. Then he changes the subject.

There's a pleasant warmth thrumming through Jason's veins later as they walk back to one of Wayne's less conspicuous cars. Apparently Dick hates it when he comes to visit in "something that screams money at the top of its lungs".

He can feel the heat in his cheeks even as the crisp autumn air breezes around them. 

It gets hotter when Bruce follows him to the passenger side and opens the door for him.

Their eyes catch before Jason gets in and he knows he's fucked a split second before it happens.

Then Bruce's soft lips move against his, tongue sliding into his mouth. A strong arm wraps around Jason's waist and a broad hand cups his cheek. To Jason's complete lack of surprise, he finds himself twisting his fists in the lapels of Bruce's overcoat and deepening the kiss. 

The next thing Jason knows, they're in the spacious back seat, Bruce beneath him, gripping bruises into his hips as Jason braces one hand against the ceiling and the other on the center console to help him grind down on Bruce's cock.

Jason's shirt has been cast aside but otherwise they're still mostly clothed. Bruce’s slacks are undone and Jason's are pulled down just beneath the line of his ass. Just enough room to fulfill this sudden desire. This  _ need _ .

"So beautiful," the older man mutters between pressing kisses to Jason's bared throat and collar bone, making him flush even hotter.

Fuck, he hasn't done this in so long, hasn't enjoyed it like this in even longer. Bruce is long and thick and splitting him open in all the best ways. The head of his dick slides and prods at his prostate constantly, making him tremble out of control.

He cries out when Bruce latches on to a nipple, flicking with his tongue, catching the bud between his teeth. 

It spurs Jason on, making him pick up the pace. He rolls his hips down faster, rougher.

Bruce groans and bites harder. Wraps his arms around Jason's waist and starts pulling him down to meet relentless thrusts.

Jason tips his head back, and one of Bruce's hands slides up his back, tangles in his hair and pulls him down for a deep, sloppy kiss.

"My god," Bruce hums as he pulls away just far enough to look up at Jason, his movements turning more and more erratic. "You're stunning."

Jason blushes violently and Bruce's chuckle is abruptly cut off with a grunt.

Less than a heartbeat later, Jason feels the warmth of Bruce's come spill into him.

He groans and tries to still his own motions. Bruce is finished and continuing to ride soft isn't pleasant for anyone involved. 

Bruce surges up to claim Jason's lips in a demanding kiss. And Jason moans into it, tears sneaking past his closed lashes, as Bruce's big hand wraps around his aching cock for the first time and squeezes. Then it starts to tug, pace painfully slow but firm, wrist twisting, thumb glancing over the head to toy with the slit or rub precome into the scorching flesh, until eventually Jason shouts and shoots streaks of white all over Bruce's hand.

They both sit there, neither moving, catching their breath. Until eventually Bruce reaches into the breast pocket of his suit jacket and produces a silk handkerchief. Which he uses to wipe off his hand before reaching between Jason's legs, sliding himself out of Jason's rhythmically clenching hole, and cleaning up what spills out.

Jason watches, a little appalled but a lot more turned on, as Bruce looks him in the eyes and tucks the ruined fabric back where it came from.

The drive back to the apartment isn't as awkward as it could have been. And when they pull up in front of the building and Jason tries to get out without fanfare, Bruce snags his wrist and pulls him into a final filthy kiss.

But when Dick gets home late—or rather, early—Jason is immensely grateful he's too drunk to notice the way Jason burns red and can't meet his eyes.

* * *

The next morning Jason oversleeps and blows into his first class, apologies pouring off his lips, still in his sweats and a t-shirt he's pretty sure is clean. But he was still half asleep when he grabbed it so he can't be sure he pulled it from the right pile.

The professor blinks at him, brows furrowed, and pulls him into the hall. Asks why Jason is there when his withdrawal went through. 

It takes him all morning and a very irritated trip to the dean, to figure out how he's suddenly withdrawn from three classes without consequence despite the fact it's past the date, not to mention the fact that  _ he didn't request to withdraw _ . 

When he does... he's never been more furious in his life. And that's saying something.

He tries to calm down before he does anything stupid. Finally takes a few minutes to check his messages, only to find three missed calls and three subsequent texts, all letting him know he's been let go and his termination check has been direct deposited. 

And any thoughts of calming down shatter. 

Dick said his dad was overbearing, but this doesn't just cross a line, it blows the line up with plastique and dances in the crater.

Wayne Tower sits in the heart of Gotham. The subway stops a block away. 

The scene Jason makes in the lobby is not dignified but it could have been a lot worse. A lot more embarrassing.

Either way, it gets the job done. The security officers and receptionist look extremely confused when the line buzzes and whoever is on the other end clears him. They direct him to the elevator and key in the top floor, casting one last wary look at him like they think he's going to try to harm Wayne.

Jason desperately wants to punch the man. But an assault charge won't do him any favors and he's worked too hard—come way too far—to let a one night stand with an entitled old man ruin his entire life. 

He storms into Wayne's office, double doors swinging wide and smacking into the walls on either side with a couple loud thuds. 

"Who the  _ fuck _ do you think you are?" Jason snarls so viciously the assistant who followed him in actually flinches.

Bruce is standing, jacket off, black tie loosened, sleeves of his white button down rolled up to his elbows, hands tucked into his pockets. 

Jason hates how fucking sexy he looks, arctic blue-grey eyes peering at him over rimless glasses as he waves the assistant out.

To his credit, the bastard doesn't pretend to not know what Jason is talking about.

"You're overworked, son—"

"I'm not your son," Jason snaps. "And a random fuck in your car doesn't give you the right to fuck with my life."

The confused look on the older man's face just infuriates him more. 

"This way, you can finish your education at a more manageable pace and not have to worry about money at all."

Jason just gapes at him, completely at a loss for words. 

Wayne shifts his stance a little and runs a hand through his hair. He looks uncomfortable and that makes Jason feel infinitesimally better.

"I just want to help."

Those words prick at long-avoided memories and Jason can't help the way he stiffens. Flashes of the night before mingle with older, darker events and he can't stop his brain from seeing similarities.

He doesn't like thinking about Roman Sionis; doesn't like thinking about the life he had with that man before he ran away.

But mostly... he thought Bruce Wayne was better than that.

"Price tag's too high," Jason bites back.

A kind smile curls Bruce's soft, warm lips and makes Jason's stomach curdle. "I think you know I can afford it."

"Too high for me, asshole."

Bruce looks so confused it's pissing Jason off.

"I'm not sure what you mean..." the older man hedges. "I'm not offering a loan. I'm not asking you to pay me back—"

"Aren't you?"

Bruce shifts again and looks around like the room might provide answers. 

It must work, because suddenly his eyes go wide and he actually recoils a step.

"Jason... do you... do you think I expect you to... to sleep with me in exchange for all this?"

If this is an act, it's a good one. Bruce looks truly horrified and offended at the thought. 

But Jason stands his ground, fixing the older man with an unconvinced glare. 

This isn't his first rodeo.

Shaking his head, Bruce takes a tentative step forward. "Look. I'm... I'm not going to lie. I had a better time with you last night than I've had in… well, years. If you'd been interested in continuing in any capacity, I would have. But I did what I did without expectation. And I've already done it. How on earth could I expect"—he swallows and visibly tries not to choke on the next word—" _ payment _ after the fact?"

"You wouldn't be the first person to offer  _ help _ "—Jason curls his fingers in quotes around the word—"only to come back later to collect what's  _ owed _ with interest."

If possible, Bruce looks even more disgusted.

"If you walked out right now, moved out of the apartment you share with my son, and never saw or spoke to me again, nothing would change. The account I set up to pay your tuition, along with an allowance for living and incidentals, is in your name. You can take it and run. I'm not trying to trap you. I'm... I'm trying to do the opposite. I'm trying to give you a little freedom. You deserve—you need—to rest, to have fun, go out with friends and-and dates..."

He moves closer as he speaks until he stands only a couple feet away. And damn, if Jason doesn't want to believe him; swayed by the older man’s almost boyish earnestness. 

"I'm... a lot," Bruce continues. "I know that. Well, I've been told that anyway. I apologize for overstepping and I'm  _ deeply _ sorry for causing you to feel this way. It was not my intention at all."

Silence extends in the small space between them as Jason works through everything that's happened in the last ten hours or so. 

It goes against all the rules he's lived by since he realized the type of person Roman was, but... 

He can't help it. He trusts Bruce.

"And if—" His voice cracks and he swallows to get some moisture. "If I  _ am _ ... interested? In-in continuing last night?"

Dark eyebrows shoot up, as if that was the last thing Bruce expected to hear. Then he closes the distance between them, cups his hand over Jason's throat and drags his thumb along Jason's lower lip, tugging it down slightly.

"Then we will. But you should know, I like to dote on the people I'm seeing. And I can be a bit... extravagant."

Jason laughs in the face of the billionaire who just paid for his bachelor's degree. "You don't say."

**Author's Note:**

> Technically Part 2: [Throw Me in the Deep End](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16608653)


End file.
